Summary: Tim finds himself locked in a supply closet at NCIS. How did he get there? Was it a prank, or does someone have an ulterior motive?Additional Notes: Written for the NFA "Orange Walls" Challenge.
The last thing he saw before everything went black was orange. What was he looking at? Where was he now? He sat up, holding his head, and felt around. Shelves… plastic bottles… a pole - no, a broomstick. Why was he in the supply closet? And how was he going to get out?
Steadying himself, Tim found his way to his feet, and waved his hand around to find the chain to turn on the light. When he felt it brush across the back of his hand, he grabbed it and pulled. The tiny closet was dimly lit.
Who would think to change a light bulb in a supply closet? It's not as if people get trapped in here every day…
Upon checking his pockets, Tim found his cell phone missing. His wallet was also gone from his back pocket. Who would rob him and lock him in the supply closet?
Tim tried the door, and of course, it didn't open from the inside. He set to looking around the shelves, to find something that could serve as a lock pick. Nothing was small enough to fit in the lock. He was stuck in that closet until someone came along and found him.
He paced the tiny closet, trying to think of what floor he ended up on. What had he been doing that day, leading up to this? He remembered being in the squad room.. And Tony had been complaining, as usual…
~*~*~*~*~
Earlier, 1100 hours…
"McGoo! Think fast!" Tim looked up as Tony launched a fast food bag at him. Tim jumped out of his chair and caught it before the food spilled out. "Thanks a lot, Tony." "You're welcome, McGrateful." Tony sat down and opened his own bag, producing a hamburger. He sat back in his chair and unwrapped his lunch. He took some time to observe the activity in the squad room as he ate. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Who chose orange for these walls, anyway?" Tony said aloud. "What?" "The walls. They're ugly. I wonder whose bright idea it was to choose orange?" "I have no idea, Tony," Tim said, annoyed. "They could have chosen tan, or taupe, or a nice off-white, or even blue! But orange? It's the ugliest color in the crayon box! Who would even think of painting a federal office building orange?" "Why don't you look into the history of the building and find out, if you're that interested, Tony?" "Maybe I will!" Tony turned to his computer, as Gibbs came into the bullpen. "Not right now, DiNozzo. We've got a dead Sailor in Rock Creek Park. Gear up." "Gearing up, Boss." Tim rolled his eyes and followed them to the elevator.
~*~*~*~*~
There was an oppressive feeling in the air, and Tim leaned against a shelf, his chest heaving. He was running out of air. How long had he been unconscious? He needed to find a way out of there, and fast.
Gibbs had called them out to the scene of a murder. It was a routine investigation in every way. Tony hadn't stopped talking about the NCIS walls the entire ride there. How much could he have to say about walls and paint color? Tim remembered seeing orange before he was knocked out cold. If it were the orange walls, he could have been anywhere in the building.
Back to square one.
Think, Tim! What else happened today?
~*~*~*~*~
"Abby would probably want to paint the walls red and black… she's into that kind of stuff. Gibbs would probably go with white, or tan, or even taupe…" "Tony, if you say one more word about the color of the walls, I'm going to hit you," Tim said, dropping his bag next to his desk. They'd just returned from processing the crime scene, and Tony hadn't shut up about the walls. "Whatever you say, McGrumpy," Tony countered, and plopped down at his desk. "Maybe a sea foam green would look good…" "Tony, no one has painted with sea foam green since the 60s… that's even uglier than orange-" Tim stopped himself. "Great, now you have me debating on the freaking wall color!" "Is anyone debating on our dead lieutenant?" Gibbs asked as he made his way to his own desk. "Lt. Matthew Street, age 29, served two tours in Iraq before he was stationed at Quantico. Married, one child. His CO reported him AWOL when he didn't return to the ship when leave was up." "Okay McGee, I want phone records, e-mail, anything you can dig up that's suspicious. DiNozzo, take Bishop and go talk to the wife, see if Lt. Street made it home after he left the ship." "On it, Boss." Tim turned to his desk and started working, but he found himself staring at the walls instead, after a few minutes. Damn that Tony for his incessant babble! Now he couldn't concentrate on anything but the color orange. "That's it!" Tim suddenly said. He pulled up the pictures from the crime scene and blew them up on the plasma. "Boss, that stuff we found on the Lieutenant's uniform… it was orange paint!" "That's good work, McGee."
~*~*~*~*~
He'd discovered the orange paint clue, and then Gibbs had sent him to Abby's lab, where she'd confirmed the substance as indoor paint. She'd told him she needed more time to evaluate it to pinpoint the brand. He was so excited he was right, that he hugged her from behind, spinning her around. He'd been on his way back to see Gibbs, when suddenly...
"Orange! Someone pushed me into the wall!" Tim said aloud. Only no one was around to hear his revelation. He was alone in a tiny closet, quickly running out of air.
He gathered what little strength he had left, and pounded his fist on the door.
"Abby! Help! Someone! Help!" He shouted, as loud as his lungs would let him. He only lasted a few minutes before he sank to his knees in exhaustion. He'd started wheezing from lack of air, and his chest was starting to burn.
"Help!" he shouted hoarsely, as his body sank to the ground. He knew he'd lose consciousness soon, and once he did, there'd be a slim chance of anyone finding him alive.
"Someone…. Help!" He kicked his foot and hit a pile of mops, stacked in the corner. They fell in front of the door, and the plastic mop bucket slammed against the door.
"Help…" he said, almost in a whisper, as his vision started to get fuzzy. This was it. He was going to die in a broom closet at NCIS. His last concsious image was filled with blinding lights, and faraway voices.
~*~*~*~*~
"I don't understand," Tony said as he walked down the hallway leading from Abby's lab. "I know he came down here." Bishop met him halfway, and they stopped.
"Are there any other labs or rooms down here?"
"No, just Abby's lab-" Tony stopped talking when he heard a loud crash.
"No… don't even tell me…"
"What, Tony?"
"Come on!" Tony raced down to the end of the hallway, and yanked open the door to the janitor's closet. An assortment of mops fell to the floor, and behind an overturned mop bucket lay Tim, reaching his hand out in desperation. Tony took a step toward him as he fell unconscious.
"Call Gibbs and Ducky, now!" Tony said, throwing the mops and bucket into the hallway to get to his friend. He took Tim by his arms and pulled him out into the hallway, to get him out of the cramped closet. Right away he noticed the large bruise on his partner's face. Someone had knocked him out and thrown him in that closet.
"Okay, McGee.. .stay with me, buddy. You're going to be all right," Tony said as he checked his friend's pulse. It seemed normal to him, but he'd let Ducky be the judge. "Ducky will be here soon. Please don't die on me, Probie…"
"Out of the way, Anthony!"
Tony moved as Ducky took his place next to Tim. After a few moments, Ducky looked up at Tim, and Gibbs, who had joined him with Bishop.
Gibbs turned to Ellie.
"Go down to Security and look at the tapes from the past couple of hours. We need to see who did this."
"Right away." She left, and Gibbs turned his attention to Ducky, who was still kneeling next to Tim.
"Is he all right, Duck?"
"His vitals are steady. He just needs to breathe for a bit. He should wake up soon."
As if on cue, Tim started to stir.
"What happened?" he asked with a groan, as Ducky's face came into view. "Why am I on the floor?"
"You were trapped in the broom closet. Tony and Ellie found you just in time."
Gibbs kneeled next to Tim as Ducky helped him sit up.
"What do you remember, Tim?"
"Orange…"
"Excuse me?"
"The wall- orange…"
"Have you been listening to DiNozzo again?" Gibbs asked with a chuckle.
"It appears someone threw him against the wall… his face is now a bright shade of orange…" Ducky pointed out.
"It's what?" Tim said.
"This hallway was freshly painted. You have orange paint all over your clothes and face."
"Great, now I look like the stupid wall," Tim grumbled.
Everyone laughed.
END